


Rooftops, Rings and Rutabagas

by Sadisticsparkle (sadisticsparkle)



Category: Avengers Assemble (Cartoon)
Genre: Awkward Dates, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Oblivious Tony Stark, POV Tony Stark, Pouty Steve Rogers, So Married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-25 23:52:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17131055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadisticsparkle/pseuds/Sadisticsparkle
Summary: A date night goes horribly wrong and then goes horribly right.





	Rooftops, Rings and Rutabagas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [adarksweetness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adarksweetness/gifts).



> I hope you enjoy this, I really enjoyed writing it!
> 
> Thanks to my beta, fujurpreux!

Tony wasn’t complaining, not at all. He wasn’t even annoyed. How could he be? The couch was comfy and Steve’s big, bulging chest was even comfier. The view from the window was as entrancing as the way Steve’s eyelashes curved. It was a perfect night, like all the other nights where they stayed home and lazed around were. Tony didn’t want anything to change – all he wanted was to find that perfect spot on top of his boyfriend.

He moved a little. Then he put his arm around Steve’s waist and the other one dangle off the couch. He slid his left leg between Steve’s. Then he hugged him with both arms. He was starting to angle his legs when Steve’s huge, warm, soft hands grabbed his waist.

‘You need to keep still.’

‘I _am_ still.’

Steve lifted a very unimpressed eyebrow.

‘Still for my standards, not yours,’ Tony added. It wasn’t his fault he was energetic. It wasn’t even a flaw. Steve liked his energy, especially in bed.

‘Oh, that makes more sense. Maybe if you cut down on the caffeine, you’d cut down on the fidgeting.’

‘If you actually wanted me to cut down on it, you wouldn’t have given that mug.’

The mug was on the coffee table, half full. It was a unique, personalized mug that Tony was proud about. How many people had mugs with their faces on it hand-painted by Captain America? None. He sat up and stared down at Steve.

‘You want me fidgeting. It makes you want to tie me down.’

Steve, forever the full-body blusher no matter how many filthy things they did together, went red.

‘It’s early for that. We should watch a movie first.’

‘It’s never early for bondage. Or late. And I don’t want to watch a movie. We’ve done that for the last three weeks.’

Oh. That was it. That was making him so fidgety. He was bored. Not of Steve - being bored of Steve was impossible - but bored of their date nights spent on the couch. He jumped to the floor and put his arms in his waist, trying to look decisive even if the warmth of the couch was already calling him back.

No. He had to be strong.

‘Get ready, Steve, we’re going out.’

‘I don’t get to have an opinion?’

‘You never do.’

That was a lie. Tony cared about Steve’s opinion to an almost pathological level, but Steve didn’t need to know that.

‘I’m gonna take you somewhere nice. Show you off.’

Steve rolled his eyes. ‘We don’t have to go out.’

‘Non-sense. FRIDAY, find me a reservation.’

‘At this time of the night?’

‘I’m Tony Stark. No restaurant is going to decline.’

FRIDAY’s voice came loud and clear. ‘The Rutabaga Farmers Association of America is hosting its Annual Charity Extravaganza tonight. You were invited but declined the invitation, citing ‘a hot boyfriend’ as the reason.’

‘ _Tony_.’

He waved Steve’s concerns away - he had been high on both coffee and oh-my-God-I’m-dating-Captain-America and that combination killed his politeness. How can you be polite to people who are not dating a Captain America of their own? The farmers had probably understood.

‘They won’t mind if we crash it. We’ll make rutabagas cool again. I’ll go change. Meet you here in fifteen minutes?’

‘There is no way I can stop you, right?’

‘No. We’ve been cooped up in here like an old married couple for too long. I won’t stand for it.’

Steve muttered something under his breath, but Tony didn’t catch it. He’d ask later, once they were back.

When he got to his room, FRIDAY had already picked out an outfit for him, a nice tux that showed off his ass. That wasn’t his ego talking, that was science - last time he had worn it, Steve’s hands had been glued to Tony’s butt for the entire night. And while Steve was deeply appreciative of Tony’s gluteus maximus any day, he was usually more reserved about it. So, clearly, it was the tux.

When he came back, Tony was greeted by the welcome sight of Steve wearing an azure shirt with black slacks and a perfectly fitted jacket. Tony remembered that one - Steve had worn it to their first date. Well, despite all his protests, Steve was into the idea. He wouldn’t have bothered to change otherwise.

‘Well, I can’t wait to take that off.’

‘You were the one that said we needed to go out,’ Steve said. ‘We can’t disappoint the farmers’.

‘Sure, sure, I just like building up your anticipation, sweetheart.’

 

 

It started to go wrong the second they got to the gala.

‘Uh, Mr. St-stark? W-would you want some w-wine?’

He extended his hand, gracefully, and then the waiter tripped. In slow motion, he saw the cup of wine tilt and the rich, red wine pour out. Horrid scenarios played in his head involving public humiliation and tabloids, but something yanked him to the side before the shirt could be ruined.

Oh. Steve. It had been him. Of course. Super-soldier reflexes and all of that. Too bad Steve’s shirt had remained spotless as well - shirtless Steve could have been an improvement over the expensive blandness that permeated the whole place.

‘Thanks for the save. Keep it up and I might even marry you,’ he said.

The waiter was falling apart in apologies next to them. He kept sweating and stuttered and it hurt Tony to even look at him. With enough reassurance and enough good-natured smiles, the man finally calmed down and went back to his work. But it was too late - Steve had already been caught by eager fans, impressed farmers and blushing waiters. It’d take Steve a while to escape from them.

He parked himself in a corner, hoping to avoid the crowd. It was date night, not a press appearance. Maybe a restaurant would have been better. The gala was… it wasn’t _bad_ , but it wasn’t anything special either. There were some rich men waddling around in tuxedos and rich ladies slithering in shiny, expensive gowns. Some tasteful flower arrangements. Food thankfully devoid of rutabaga. Smooth, silent waiters - except for the nervous one. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and sighed, even if nobody was around to hear it.

The gala had one thing going for it - gigantic sculptures of different New York landmarks. _Very creative_ ones: big, colossal piles of rutabagas forming the Empire State, the Brooklyn Bridge, the Statue of Liberty and, towering above them all, Steve. He wasn’t confused - Steve was his favorite New York landmark too. Still, his mind was brimming with questions. How had they managed to keep them standing? Was there glue? Nails? How did the party planner react to it? Had it been their idea, to make the gala a little less by-the-numbers? Where had they gotten such good reference for Steve’s ass?

The sudden weight of Steve’s arm slung over his shoulders broke him off the rutabaga reverie.

‘I don’t think I look like that,’ he said, pointing at the statue.

‘Yes, you’re a little taller.’

Steve kissed him on the cheek.

‘What was that for?’

‘You looked bored.’

‘I was hoping for more decadent indulgence.’

‘At least the food is good, isn’t it?’

‘The company’s even better.’

Steve’s arm slid down to Tony’s waist, subtle like a suggestion. ‘Care for a dance?’

‘You know I can’t say no to you.’

Steve took Tony’s hand into his and dragged him to the dance floor. Tony wasn’t really listening to the music, lost instead in Steve’s gorgeous eyes and the way his hair flopped. He could barely tell how his feet glided across the floor, following Steve’s gentle lead. He could have danced all night long, but then there was a crash. And no matter how busy he was acting like a besotted teenager, he was a superhero. He knew exactly how broken windows sounded like. Steve nodded and they both turned towards the noise. Tony didn’t see it until Steve pointed at it: a bunch of scallions, sitting in the middle of the party. It looked as appropriate as a giraffe looked inside the Sidney Opera House.

‘Are we being attacked by… vegetable terrorists?’

‘I… don’t know. That or a vegetable vendetta.’

The nervous writer was cowering behind them. Did he know what this was about? He didn’t have time to interrogate the man, because a motorcycle jumped through the broken window before he could. The growling sound of its engines reverberated across the room, as did the screams of the guests running towards the exit door.

‘FRIDAY, send the armor!’

Steve was already in his fighting stance. Good. Steve could handle the first part of the battle while they waited for the armor to reach Tony. The guy in the motorcycle slammed the brakes and stopped in the middle of the ballroom. He had to admit it had been a good entrance. Especially now that he noticed the guy was wearing a Red Skull mask.

So were the men climbing in through the window behind him, with guns on their hands and evil intent on their faces. Well, on their masks. Red Skull’s face always looked evil.

‘We are the Red Scallions and we’re here for your money, rotten rich rutabagas!’

Okay, way to ruin the effect. There were even some laughs between the terrified guests, but there wasn’t time to wonder. Steve was already springing into action. He hadn’t brought the shield - because it was going to be date night and this wasn’t how it was supposed to go - but he was a resourceful man. He’d figure it out.

‘Sorry, I’ll bring it back!’ Steve screamed and then he yanked the tray off the nervous waiter’s hands. The oysters flew through the air like tiny UFOS and landed squarely on top of Tony.

Great. He was going to smell like fish for the rest of the night which meant he wouldn’t get lucky. When it came to Steve, the smell of fish was the ultimate boner killer, as Tony had discovered one time after fighting Attuma. The night couldn’t get any worse.

Still, he had a job to do. He dashed across the ballroom because he knew the armor was almost there. He jumped. It’d catch him. It always did. As he fell, the armor formed itself around him. It was nice and comfy, even if it meant date night was ruined. Steve was already surrounded by unconscious men.

Wasting no time, he flew across the ballroom, towards the leader. Steve had already subdued most of the guys with his shield-tray. All it took was landing with a thud in front of the guy in the Red Skull mask. Without even a word from Tony, the guy put his arms up and shrugged.

‘The Red Scallions? Really?’

The criminal straightened his back and pulled up his chin.

‘I lost a bet.’

Tony thought it best not to inquire.

He turned around to look at the damage. It wasn’t that bad, for an attempted robbery. Some tables turned over, oysters and canapés on the floor, broken glass from the window. The sculptures had survived the ordeal, except for Steve’s nose.

‘Look, Steve, you’re the Rutabaga Sphynx. Maybe they could charge people to see it.’

Steve, as his sole answer, dropped an unconscious criminal at Tony’s feet. The others were being rounded up by the security guards.

‘Do we have to wait for the cops?’

‘I don’t think so. Security has it under control.’ Steve’s nose twitched. ’What’s that smell?’

‘ _Somebody_ threw oysters at me.’

Steve blushed. ‘I don’t mind it.’

‘Yes, you do. You’re looking greenish. Hey, nervous guy!’

The nervous waiter, busy sweeping the floor, stopped, pointed at himself and tilted his head.

‘Yes, you. Come here. I have a business deal for you.’

The guy didn’t walk towards them, he dashed across the room, avoiding all the pieces of broken glass. It was rather impressive.

‘Yes, Mr. Stark?’

‘I want to offer you a trade. Your shirt for mine.’

There was a short gasp and then silence.

‘Is that a yes?’

The vigorous nodding seemed to imply so. He started unbuttoning his shirt while Steve tried and failed to look away. Ha. Working out had its rewards. He’d have to remember that next time he wanted to skip leg day.

The waiter had already taken his off, revealing a chest that could most charitably be called ‘skinny’, but was more like skeletal. Tony grabbed the shirt and put it on. It was very tight. Steve’s blush confirmed it.

‘Thanks,’ he said but the waiter was already walking away, muttering something about never washing the shirt. He would have to put him on the stalker watch list. ‘Ready to leave then, Steve?’

‘Back to the Tower?’

‘I refuse. I promised you a date night…’

‘I didn’t ask for one.’

‘… because I don’t want to be like a boring married couple. And you will get one. The best date night.’

‘What about dinner? I’m hungry.’

‘We can steal some hors d’ouvres and we can eat them in some rooftop and pretend we can see the stars. How does that sound?’

‘It sounds great.’

Tony tried to believe him, but it was hard when Steve couldn’t stop sighing and pouting and slouching. Maybe he was hungry. At least there was still a lot of food left, even if the security guards and some of the thieves were helping themselves with no care in the world. They stole some canapés and skewers with tentacly things Tony didn’t know the names of. It wasn’t the best dinner he had ever offered Steve, but it was enough.

 

 

With the armor - why did he even own cars when the armor meant skipping the traffic and traveling in style -, it was easy to take Steve flying across the sky, searching for an empty rooftop on top of some dark building. It wasn’t long before he spotted a suitable one. Nobody would mind. Probably be honored to have the Avengers having a picnic on their rooftop.

‘Ready, Steve?’

‘Always,’ Steve said. He opened his arms and let Steve fall. Steve twisted around in the air and landed perfectly. It was always a joy to see how his muscles worked together and how perfectly timed his movements were. It was also really hot. When Steve landed and waved him from below, he landed too, trying to be as dainty as a 200 lbs armor could be.

Steve was busy extending his jacket on the floor. With a flourish, Tony put the hors d’ouvres on top of it and a bottle of wine he had grabbed on their way out. It wasn’t that good. The Rutabaga people didn’t know their wines at all.

‘Now we can have a nice dinner in peace.’

‘Keep your voice down. We don’t want to wake up anybody,’ Steve said, sitting down in one fluid movement.

He sat close to Steve and took his hand. Steve was silent.

‘Is there something wrong?’

‘No, I just…’

‘You’ve been weird tonight.’

‘It’s nothing, Tony.’

‘You know you can tell me.’

‘It’s hard.’

‘We have all the time in the world.’

‘No, you don’t!’ somebody said, slamming open the rooftop’s door. ‘Some of us **work** for a living, you stupid teenagers!’

Steve jumped up, but Tony remained sitting. No matter what the very tiny, very prune-like lady in front of them had to say, he was going to enjoy his dinner. He took one canapé and ate it. The lady turned on a flashlight and Tony could properly appreciate her fluffy hot pink nightgown and her Hulk slippers. He could also appreciate the meanest expression Tony had ever seen outside the Cabal.

‘We’re sorry,’ Steve started to say.

‘Sorry? Who are you even? Thieves?’

‘No, ma’am, I’m… Captain America.’

‘And I’m the Black Widow!’ she snorted.

‘She wouldn’t be caught dead wearing that,’ Tony said, between two canapés.

‘You’d be surprised,’ Steve muttered.

‘I’ve seen better Iron Man costumes on Halloween,’ she went on, pointing at both of them with the flashlight. ‘At least you’re creative criminals.’

He had to stand up then. Some slander could not be accepted. ‘This is not a costume!’

‘If you’re not criminals, then why are you on my rooftop?’

‘It was… a date.’

‘He must really like you if he agreed to come here.’

‘Of course he likes me. I’m Tony Stark.’

‘Sure, kid. Sure. Leave, ‘Mr. Stark’, or I’ll call the police.’

He opened his mouth to speak, but Steve elbowed him. How could he even elbow him hard enough to make him feel it inside the armor? He needed to run new tests on Steve’s strength.

‘That won’t be necessary, ma’am. We’ll leave right away.’

Steve didn’t even ask before climbing on top of Tony’s boots. He had no choice but to fly away. Maybe the lady would be convinced now and feeling sorry for ruining Iron Man’s date, but he doubted it.

 

 

Steve didn’t talk during the flight home. Tony didn’t force it - when Steve soured like that, pushing only led to storming away from rooms. Knowing Steve, in the slightly awkward position of being in Tony’s arms, it’d lead to Steve jumping down and probably breaking an ankle or two.

It was difficult, but he managed to keep his mouth closed until they landed. He opened his faceplate before Steve had stepped away from him - Steve hated having an argument without being able to see Tony’s face.

‘I’m sorry, Steve.’

Steve rolled up his shoulders. It was a shrug based on a Nicholas Sparks novel - sad, miserable and about as fake as it was effective. He didn’t even turn around to look at Tony. ‘It wasn’t your fault.’

‘Yes, it was. I should have planned date night better.’

‘You were busy.’

‘It’s no excuse. I don’t want us to be…’

Steve did a 180º turn and Tony was faced with Captain America on the warpath. ‘A boring married couple?’

‘Well, yeah. I don’t want to go all Suburbia on you. You deserve better.’

‘Better than _marriage_?’

Okay. That conversation had taken a sudden turn towards the serious. Tony wasn’t sure he liked that.

‘Wait, what? How did we go from rutabagas to marriage?’

‘You’ve been talking all night about it. About how you don’t want to be a _married_ couple.’

‘That’s not what I said!’

Steve pouted. He tried valiantly to hide it in a grimace, but Tony knew. Totally a pout. ‘It’s what I heard,’ he finally spit out.

‘I didn’t mean it like that… I don’t want to lose the romance.’

‘So that means you don’t want to get married?’

‘No, Steve.’

Oh. He shouldn’t have said that. Steve’s eyes had lit up like a galaxy imploding. ‘That means you do?’

‘Hm. Well. I mean.’

‘So you don’t?’

‘Hey, slow down and let me think, okay? I wasn’t going to discuss marriage tonight. I’m just surprised you’ve thought about it.’

‘We’ve lived together for years, Tony. Are you that surprised I’d like to spend the rest of my life with you?’

‘To be honest, yes.’

Steve put his hand on Tony’s cheek. ‘I’ve lost a lot. I want to hold onto what matters to me.’

Tony knew right then what his answer was. He wasn’t sure of many things - but wanting to make Steve happy no matter what was one of them.

‘Yes.’

‘What?’

Why did he have to clarify? It was hard enough to admit that yes, he did want to marry Steve - he had thought about it, sometimes, before they got together and wishing for more became selfish - but elaborating on it? He squared off his shoulders and faced the challenge. It couldn’t be that hard to explain what he was feeling, right? ‘If that’s… If that’s how you feel, then the answer is yes, Steve. If you’re asking.’

The world swirled around him - was it the emotions? Oh. No. Steve was twirling him and his 200 lbs of armor. He _really_ had to recalculate Steve’s strength.

‘Of course I’m asking! This is the best date night ever!’

It was only proper to kiss him once the twirling stopped… but Steve didn’t kiss back. He stopped and stepped back, crossing his arms. He knew what was going on. ‘Still smell like fish?’

His boyfriend - no, his fiance - looked properly abashed. ‘Sorry.’

‘What about a shower and then a movie?’

‘Even if it’s boring?’

‘I need boring. Boring is good. We had enough emotion for the day. And, you know, the shower is big enough for two.’


End file.
